


to love and be loved

by Anonymous



Series: all my anon fics [4]
Category: Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Dream Backstory, Dream Smp, Gen, Isolation, Mental Illness, ploy dream team that can be read as platonic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-23
Updated: 2021-01-23
Packaged: 2021-03-15 02:00:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 647
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28930659
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: Dream once knew what it felt like to be loved.Dream would give anything to be the man he was back then.
Relationships: Clay | Dream & GeorgeNotFound & Sapnap (Video Blogging RPF), implied- dream/george/sapnap
Series: all my anon fics [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2048198
Kudos: 18
Collections: Anonymous





	to love and be loved

Dream once knew what it felt like to be loved.

He knew, undoubtedly, what it was like to come home and be greeted. To lay in bed closest to the people he cared most about. To be injured and to have people worry.

Most of all, he knew the fond look they gave him. The one that said everything was okay as long as they’re here together and nothing could change that.

He remembers the short nights, only stretched longer by him, Sapnap and George sitting around on the dock, feet dipped into the lake and looking up at the stars, out past the mountains… Anywhere really. They could talk for hours, about where they wanted to explore, what they could build, what kind of trouble they could make.

It was peaceful.

Water lapping, frogs croaking, crickets chirping. 

Some nights Dream would lay awake in their bed, staring up at the ceiling and listening to the noises drift in from outside. 

Sapnap would roll over and lay an arm across Dream’s chest. George would mumble something then kick. 

Dream would give anything to be the man he was back then. Not to go back, just to be who he used to be.

A man who knew what it was like to be loved.

Everything changed in a single day. Even now he places the blame onto that day, onto Tommy. Whether or not it’s deserved is something Dream doesn’t care to consider.

New people started showing up around the house. They would take small things, stuff that surely would not be missed. But down to the last crumb of rotten flesh, Dream always knew when something had gone missing. It was a habit he hated. 

Meticulously Dream took inventory of his home and as it seemed to spiral he was able to ignore it, Sapnap and George took and left new things every day. Some lack of order was bound to upset his sorting.

Tommy came by one day, a younger guy who they had never seen before. He took what he wanted and left everything smoldering in his wake.

At first Dream didn’t care about what Tommy’s items were. They, ultimately, meant nothing. But… to Tommy they meant everything. Dream took them and decided that would be punishment enough for what he had done to Dream’s home.

Tommy was relentless. He brought more people and more schemes and weeks later of anxiety and planning and… everything… their stalemate finally seemed to come to end.

And then it didn’t.

Dream got sick one day.

He never got better.

He wasn’t  _ dying _ , no. Just… unwell. His thought patterns had shifted and his brain was no longer doing what it should. He took a step back and started looking at everything from a different lense. 

Weeks of anxiety and planning turned into months of panic and depression and paranoia and… Dream getting sick.

Every single person who had settled around  _ his _ home. On  _ his _ land. All of them had attachments to things. Either interpersonal or materialistic.

Dream looked at Sapnap one day and for a moment there was no recognition. Sapnap never looked at Dream how he used to. They hadn’t sat out on the dock with George in months. They rarely slept at all, let alone in the same house even.

When he finally got caught, he wished Sapnap had killed him.

He hadn’t seen George in what felt like forever, it was impossible to remember his face but he knew that when George next met his eyes it would devastate him.

Sitting alone in his prison cell he knows again what it’s like to feel peace. Just watching the walls and the way the faint smell of burning lava wafts in every so often. He remembers what it was like to sit in his house.

But he certainly cannot remember what it feels like to be loved.

**Author's Note:**

> find me on twitter @georgewithno


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